


touch-a touch-a touch me

by sarah_dude



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Footsie, Tumblr Prompts, affectionate touch, bridal style lift, sitting on each other's lap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10916769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarah_dude/pseuds/sarah_dude
Summary: This is a compilation of tumblr ask fics, based around touch. Each chapter is stand alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: playing footsie

“Oh, for _fucks_ sake-” Serena mutters, as the pen she’d been using to sign off paperwork clatters to the floor.

For the past hour, almost uninterrupted, she’s been catching up with the stack of files that were threatening to overwhelm the desk she shares with Bernie, who’s sat diligently across from her, signing her own overdue papers (only thanks to the promise of chocolate that is now kept next to several bottles of wine in Serena’s drawer).

Leaning back in her chair, Serena tries to spot where the pen has rolled to, spying it tangled in the wires that lead to her computer monitor. She reaches her foot out and feels around blindly to drag it back, stubbing her foot against Bernie’s in the process.

“Ouch!” Bernie jumps a little, surprised but not hurt. Serena doesn’t notice, too busy leaning to the side in her chair to try and lift her pen, now retrieved, off the floor.

“Ah ha!” She says, triumphant, lifting herself up with a hand on the desk with only a small groan. Shaking her hair out she smiles over to Bernie wiggling the pen between her fingers victorious. “Little bugger.”

Bernie lets out a bark of laughter, and Serena treads with a light pressure on her foot in apology. “Sorry for kicking you.”

“No problem,” Bernie says, already looking back down at her folder, small tight smile at her lips. “Should have known you’d be just as aggressive at footsie as you are at everything else.”

Serena’s mouth drops a little in indignation. “Ha. Oh, you. Just you, just you wait.” She threatens lightly, shaking a finger at Bernie, not insulted in the slightest.

She’s too happy to bother with a clever plan of attack. She steps out of her heels, and softly, slowly reaches back out, brushing the ankle of Bernie’s scrub bottoms. At the quirk of Bernie’s eyebrow Serena knows that she’s instantly rumbled, but doesn’t care.

She toys with Bernie’s scrubs, brushing against her ankle and finds a comfortable place to rest her feet.

“Campbell.” Bernie starts, not even looking up from the chart she is currently ‘reading’, but hasn’t actually turned a page since Serena’s first touch. “If expediency is the name of the game here with this work, you shouldn’t be giving me reasons to slow down.”

Serena just quirks an eyebrow and lets her foot slide higher along Bernie’s ankle, much to Bernie’s amusement.

“Talented woman such as yourself should be able to multitask surely.” Serena says.

“Hmm,” Bernie hums. “Please note that you’re actually the one not working right now.”

“Oh tosh.” Serena snorts. “You haven’t touched that file for 5 minutes.”

Bernie looks up with a grin and Serena’s heart betrays her, flutters a little at the sight.

“And I haven’t touched you in far longer, which is quite the travesty.”

Serena leans in, resting her elbow on the desk and looks entirely too smug, but Bernie can’t help but find it endlessly endearing.

“Well then,” Serena says, lifting her chin in challenge.  “You should do something to rectify that.”

It’s just as well that most of the urgent paperwork has been completed. There’s only a small stack left that need signatures, but those can wait. Most of the work will come from organising and tidying the paper when Serena decides to sweep it off the corner of the desk so Bernie can lift her to take its place and kiss her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: sitting on each other's lap (bonus points if there are star constellations)

Bernie loves staying over at Serena’s.

It’s not just the warmth that seems to seep out of every corner, not the good food, or the great conversation. Not the easy evening’s watching a carefully balanced viewing of quiz shows and documentaries timed so Serena can always watch the 10 o’clock weather.

It’s none of that, although it all helps.

No, Serena has a beautiful back garden which Bernie likes to sit in, in the evenings before bed. Sometimes she smokes, a little soup can half filled with ash and cigarette butts sitting next to the lawn chair that’s she’s placed in the middle of the grass. Sometimes she brings out a beer.

Tonight is a wonderful combination of some of Bernie’s favourite things, a clear warm night with a thin waxing crescent moon. She enjoys several long moments to star gaze, her eyes tracing the well known patterns, before her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the sliding patio door.

Bernie doesn’t need to look across to picture clear image of Serena stepping out and cursing the slightly damp grass which will make the ankles of her pyjama bottoms wet. She closes her eyes for a second enjoying the muttering and when she opens them she sees a vision, holding a cup of tea.

“Hmm.” Bernie hums in greeting. “That for me?”

“Half is.” Serena says, sipping cautiously from the fresh cup, still too hot to drink no matter how much she wants to. “Scoot up.”

Bernie doesn’t move though, reaching out for Serena’s dressing gown and tugging her near to sit on her lap.

“Bernie,” Serena warns. “I’m not sure this is the best idea.”

“‘Course it is.” Bernie says with a cute furrowing of eyebrows, then pats her thighs. “Best idea I’ve ever had, come on.”

Serena rolls her eyes affectionately before passing her the tea so she can smooth out her dressing gown enough to sit.

“Omfph.”

“Oi, you.” Serena says with a poke. “Watch it.”

“Joking, joking.” Bernie whispers, pushing her nose into the back of Serena’s neck, where it’s soft, warm, and smells like the soap Bernie will wash herself with in the morning. She leans them both back and brings her gaze back to the sky. “What’s your favourite constellation?”

“I don’t know,” Serena says. “Always liked the Pleiades for some reason.”

“Interesting.”

“Really?” Serena says, trying to turn in Bernie’s lap, but Bernie’s arms hold her steady. “Why?”

“Did you know that the Pleiades are made up of a cluster containing middle-aged hot blue stars?”

“I knew it’s also called Seven Sisters and beyond that very little. I didn’t know you knew anything about astronomy.”

“Charlotte grew up wanting to be an astronaut.” Bernie says by way of explanation. “The stars and the moon were the two things we could talk about while I was away. She used to be fascinated that no matter where I was in the world, the moon was the moon, but the stars and constellations might look different.”

“That’s sweet.” Serena says.

“It was.” Bernie agrees and laughs at herself a little. “I learnt so much about the stars until I realised that one day she didn’t care anymore and I was left with pointless information. _Anyway_ ,” she coughs and pulls Serena tighter against her. “I mention it because maybe that’s why you feel an affinity with those stars.”

“Berenice Griselda, are you calling me middle aged?”

“I’m calling you hot!” Bernie protests with a bark of laughter.

“Well, we all knew that.” Serena says, stealing the tea back. “What about you? What constellation is your favourite?”

“Ooh,” Bernie says, thinking. “I always liked Orion best.”

“Hmmm,” Serena hums. “The Hunter. Suits you.”

Bernie jiggles her leg up and down a bit, jostling Serena and earning a surprised reprimand at almost spilling the contents of the cup.

“You know astronomy too? Will wonders never cease?”

“Only the basics.” Serena protests, “No real knowledge. You don’t like Ursa Major best? Isn’t that the bear? Well, actually, that’s silly, Berenice means bearer of victory not literally ‘ _bear’_ so Orion is actually…”

“Actually.” Bernie says, cutting through Serena’s rambles. “It’s not what it stands for, more about, just being able to see it.”

“What do you mean?”

Bernie readjusts her knees slightly to save herself from a dead leg.

“Orion was always the easiest constellation for me to see from my bedroom window at home growing up.” Bernie explains. “Always the first one I spotted when I looked at the sky. Always made me feel safe when I saw it.”

“Oh.” Serena says.

“In Afghanistan it was so much brighter, due to the lack of light pollution. The Hunter. Always watching my back, or so it seemed.” Bernie says with an increasingly quiet voice. “Seems silly now.”

“No,” Serena says, turning in Bernie’s arms. “No not silly, not silly at all, thank you for telling me.”

She leans down slowly at kiss her softly, managing not to grimace at the stale smoke on Bernie’s breath.

“Also helps I can see it from your back garden.” Bernie says with a soft smile.

“Really?” Serena says, delighted as she turns back round to stare at the sky. “Well I never, I guess Orion still has your back.”

“Oh no,” Bernie says. “I don’t need the stars to do that for me anymore. Not when I have you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: hair stroking, bridal style lift, kisses

“Come on.” Bernie whispers, reaching out to touch just because she can. She lets her thumb run along Serena’s cheek and around the curve of her ear, before playing with the wisps of hair that are growing longer each week, long enough that Bernie can actually tuck a piece away behind an ear without it falling back. “Let’s go bed.”

Serena makes a noise of protest, her hand reaching out to stop Bernie from moving away. “No.” She says. “I’m too comfy.” 

Bernie sinks back into the sofa and considers her options. If they sit here much longer, one or both of them will be asleep; something they’ve done before when more shiraz than sense has been consumed, and just the memory of the back ache is enough to motivate Bernie into trying to rouse Serena again.

“Serena.” Bernie lures. “Come on, love.”

“No.” Serena mutters; knows that, soon, she’s going to have to move, but just wants to be petulant. Dramatically she groans and stretches away from Bernie to rest her head against the armrest. “You’re going to have to drag me there.” 

With a sigh that betrays how endearing Bernie finds a sleepy Serena, she stands up to clear the mugs from the table and walks into the kitchen to make sure the back door is locked. Walks to the front door and performs the same ritual check. Straightens the shoes that had been kicked off earlier so no one will risk a twisted ankle in the morning. Pats her coat pockets to make sure her car keys and wallet are in there for the next day. 

Everything is exactly where it should be. 

Everything except for Serena, who remains stubbornly curled up on the sofa, eyes closed by the time Bernie returns to the doorway of the living room to watch with a smile. 

“You know,” Bernie says, “I’m not going to drag you.” 

Serena frowns and stirs to lay on her back. 

“Berenice Wolfe, are you threatening me with a night sleeping alone on the sofa?” 

Bernie laughs softly. “Uh, no.” She points out. “I think you did that one to yourself.” She steps into the room. “Tell you what, I don’t know about dragging.” She says. “But just this once I’ll carry you, shall I?” 

Serena’s eyes open and light up. “Oh, goodie.” 

Bernie chuckles and moves over to Serena, bending to tuck one arm under the bend of her knee and to wrap her other arm around Serena’s torso. Sending a quick prayer to a God she doesn’t know if she believes in, she stands.

“Good lord.” Serena says unwillingly, slightly stunned expression on her face. “I didn’t think you’d actually manage to lift me.” 

“Please.” Bernie scoffs, with rare arrogance, moving to the door. “I’ve carried backpacks heavier than you.”

They pause so Bernie can hold Serena close to the lightswitch, which she obligingly turns off before winding her arms around Bernie’s neck with a sigh and settles in to enjoy being carried up the stairs with relative ease. 

“Hardly bridal style through the front door.” Serena quips as they step into the bedroom.

Bernie grunts and readjusts, jostling Serena lightly. “Save that for when it really counts shall we?” 

“My my, Berenice. You are presumptuous.” Serena says, and it’s made all the more precious by the yawn that extends the last syllable. She rests her chin on Bernie’s shoulder and nuzzles in. “Now take me to bed.”

“Ha.” Bernie bites out, kicking the bedroom door closed behind her. “You know, one day I’ll convince you that using my full name doesn’t fluster me as much as you think it does.” 

“Oh yes.” Serena says, somehow managing to sound sarcastic despite being half asleep in Bernie’s arms. “And one day I might enjoy a chardonnay, dear.” 

Walking to the edge of the bed, Bernie spares a gleeful moment entertaining the idea of dropping Serena on it, imagines the indignant squeal she would probably let out, imagines Serena’s eyes darkening as she vows to get payback, imagines kissing Serena.

Instead, Bernie bends. Leans forward, ignores the slight protest of her lower back and settles Serena on top on the duvet. 

Serena slides her arms from around Bernie’s neck and pushes her fringe away from her eyes. She strokes some longer strands of hair behind her ears and holds her there, eyes flicking all over her face before looking at her lips, then into her eyes. 

“I like having something that makes you flustered.” Serena whispers into the small space between them. 

“Serena.” Bernie replies. “Your existence flusters me.” 

“Oh.” Serena says. “Well, that’s nice.” 

Bernie kisses her. 

“That’s nice too.” Serena sighs.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: kisses

Serena places a plate down next to the sink with a clatter, smiling as a hand rests on her shoulder, another arm carrying a serving dish coming around her side to place it alongside the other dirty dishes.

“Have I told you just how pretty you look today?” Bernie asks, tucked up behind her.

Serena hums in approval and turns, allows herself to be pushed back against the countertop.

“Oh, I don’t know.” She says, hearing her smile as much as she can feel it slowly spread across her lips. “Only once or twice.”

“An oversight.” Bernie says. “Since you look spectacular in your new blouse.”

Serena allows her hand to tug a little at the collar of Bernie’s shirt under the pretence of straightening it out 

“You noticed.” Serena says, pleased.

“Serena,” Bernie breathes, lips only centimetres away, eyes darting across her face. “I more than notice.”

“That.” Serena says, brushing her lips lightly across Bernie’s with a gentle sigh. “Is becoming a habit for you.”

She lets go of Bernie’s collar in favour of cupping the back of Bernie’s neck, warm skin and tangled hair, tugging her closer to kiss her more firmly, chaste in the dirtiest way.

An endless softness and pure, aching, sensation.

Her mouth opens and Bernie dedicates entire kisses to her bottom lip, fingers brushing light as air against her jaw, her ear. Holds her there as lips stick and peel apart only to join again with a building hunger.

Serena doesn’t mean to catalogue kisses.

She doesn’t mean to note the difference in the taste of Bernie’s mouth after wine, after toothpaste or before smoking. She doesn’t mean to notice the way Bernie prefers to linger softly in the morning, all lips and whispers, or how she likes to sometimes press harder in the evening with the sharp edge of teeth and tongue.

She doesn’t mean to. But she does. Quite simply because no one has kissed her like Berenice Wolfe, and this kiss in particular was one to remember.

It’s not the sexiest kiss, nor the most spectacular they’ve ever shared. But it’s comfortable and warm, it’s a place Serena feels like she could weep into and be safe. It’s a kiss she’s imagined so many times alone in her bed it already feels like a memory. Its-

“ _Jesus_!”

-interrupted.

“Christ.” Charlotte says. “Are you two always like this? Vom.” She puts her plate next to the pile Serena had begun to bring through from the dining table.

“Ah.” Bernie clears her throat, slightly panicked, with her hair roughed up at the back from Serena’s fingers, the very image of the first time they shared a kiss in the office, interrupted from more by Raf. It’s becoming a theme, Bernie thinks, half delirious.

Serena wipes her lip, unashamed. “Thank you for helping to clear the table, you didn’t need to.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes. “Well you guys were taking forever, there’s just Cam’s plate and our glasses left anyway.”

“I can get those.” Bernie says, already moving with a sort of desperation to leave the kitchen. To be able to run and still return.

“So,” Charlotte says into the stillness that settles once Bernie’s frantic energy has left, appraising Serena. “Making out with my Mum in the kitchen? How very ‘first date meeting the family’ cliche.”

Serena grins, a wicked thing, and starts to fill the sink with hot water, liberally squeezing in fairy liquid and letting the bubbles build up along with the tension.

“I can promise that I have good intentions. I’ll even bring her home by midnight if you like.”

“Do you though? Have good intentions?”

Serena turns, sees that for all Charlotte’s postulating through the evening, for all that she distances herself and pretends to be unaffected, she cares deeply for her mother.

“The best.” Serena promises, tells Charlotte a secret she hasn’t told anyone. “I love her, see?”

“That simple?” Charlotte asks.

Serena smiles, hears youth and scepticism in equal parts in Charlotte’s voice.

“No.” She says. “Not that simple, but for now it’s enough.”

“I guess.”

“Trust me.” Serena says, dipping the washing into the hot water. “Love is complicated and messy, and downright horrid sometimes. Sometimes you will think love shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. So when love makes you feel like everything you grew up hoping it would, when it makes you feel how stories and poems and songs told you it could, you make it work.”

Bernie brings the last plate through, holding all four glasses in her other hand.

“Wouldn’t you agree, dear?” Serena says, as she slots one of the plates into the drying rack.

“Uh.” Bernie says, with a confused expression. “Yes, whatever you said.”

“That’s my girl.” Serena winks at Charlotte and pats Bernie’s hip with a hand covered in bubbles. Bernie looks at Serena and she feels kissed without being touched.

Charlotte grins and blushes but doesn’t look away, instead steps forward. “Let me help dry up, Mum.” She says to Bernie. “Before Serena makes you drop something.”

“Me? Never!” Bernie scoffs, and leans in tentatively to kiss Serena, aware of the new ground they are treading.

Serena doesn’t mean to make a note of the sweetness of an unhidden, unhurried kiss, but she does nonetheless.

“Gross.” Charlotte whispers.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me, if you so wish, at delightfullyambiguous on tumblr. 
> 
> almost everything is unbetaed so all mistakes are my own.


End file.
